Page 89 of Deliver us from Evil

Shit.

I forgot about the safe.

But from their reactions to Zachary’s statement, my men haven’t. For all I know, Apollo’s still been running his password cracking software every second of every day since they left Saint Amos. In fact, now I’m pretty sure they’veneverstopped searching for their Ghosts.

And I want to keep them from their truth because I’m too busy being happy?

I turn to Zachary. “Then go. You can take my social security card and claim whatever—” I wave at the computer “—it is.”

Zachary shakes his head. “You have to be there in person.”

“Yeah? And how would you know?” I have no right to be angry with him, but I need to channel this frustration—this fear—somehow.

“Because when I had to claim my inheritance after my parents died, I didn’t want to be there either.” He looks up, to the side. “But I’m glad I did, because at least we have a roof over our heads.”

The bastard is guilt-tripping me.

And it’s working.

I’ve contributed nothing to our home. I would have, obviously, but I don’t have a penny to my name. No job. No inheritance.

But if Gabriel left me something…

“Fine,” I snap. “Then let’s go.”

“What about breakfast?” Apollo calls out as we all stream out of his chaotic room.

“We’ll get something on the way,” Cass says over his shoulder.

“Aw, man. I was looking forward to that.”

My stomach grumbles quietly to itself as I head upstairs to change.

Yeah, Apollo. You and me both.

Chapter Thirty

Trinity

Idon’t like this place. There’s too much chrome and glass and expensive-looking art on the walls. Gabriel’s executor—a middle-aged woman whose name I already forgot—has a habit of clicking her pen after every statement she makes, like a judge banging her gavel.

“And this is the last one. If you’ll just sign here.” She taps a line on the paperwork, as if I’ve been struck blind and can’t notice the bright yellow post-it arrow stuck to the side of the page. And then clicks her pen.

Click.

I sign. Date. I slide the form over to Reuben. He signs as a witness. Dates.

The lawyer takes the paper back and then stands, going over to a cabinet with a keypad on the side. But not before she runs her gaze over my men.

I don’t know how much she’s figured out about our relationship, but the fact that all four of them accompanied me into the room probably gave her some clues. Then there were the hickeys I wasn’t allowed to cover up with makeup. Four hickeys…four men…

She should know they’re mine. And I swear, if she looks at them like they’re a deep-dish pizza and she’s just come off a fast, I’m gonna—

“Almost done,” Rube says, sliding his hand onto my thigh.

I’m wearing a sunny empire-waist dress. I should feel like a doll, but I don’t. Which is weird, because it definitely felt like Cass was playing dress up with me. He always insists on dressing me and anyone else who doesn’t have enough willpower to turn him down before we leave the house.

My curls are scooped up on top of my head, but a few straggle down around my neck. I’m even wearing a touch of lipstick and a slick of mascara, which is usually all they allow me to wear, makeup-wise. I was also denied underwear, but that’s a battle I lost a long time ago.

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